


You Are My Sunshine

by varrylarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Crying, Fluff, Idk I've never written anything on Ao3, Kinda, M/M, Oh, One Shot, Sad Ending, Song Lyrics, car crash, i guess like, i guess that's it, it's a sad!fic, someone we love very much dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 14:38:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3492053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varrylarry/pseuds/varrylarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Oneshot. Set on November 10, 2014, just after Bullshit Tweet 2.0)</p><p>Harry and Louis get in a fight.<br/>They both end up saying some things they'll regret. </p><p>Give <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9cR-dU0u5aI">this</a> a listen if you love dying and being dead. </p><p>Warnings for major character death and my tears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are My Sunshine

Harry's pissed.

He's pissed and he's driving to their house right now. Pressing the call button built into his car, he hisses into the speaker, "call Louis Tomlinson on cell."

"Calling Louis Tomlinson," replies the automated speech system.

He grips the wheel to the point where his knuckles turn white, and glares at the red light in front of him. The phone rings twice before Louis picks up.

"Hazza, I can explain--"

"Louis, do you know what they're saying? They're saying you're homophobic. They're leaving. They've had enough of this bullshit, and frankly, so have I."

"I didn't--I didn't wan't to, Hazza," Louis hiccoughs into the phone. He sounds like he's been crying.

"How could you, Louis?" Harry wants to cry as well. The light changes and he speeds up.

"Harry, just listen," Louis sniffles. "It was the shirt! A magazine saw the shirt and--Management told me they had to. They posted it! It wasn't me!" Louis is sobbing.

"You have the final say, Louis. I know what as well as anybody. You can't blame Management!" Harry yells into microphone above his seat. He squeezes his eyes shut to prevent the tears from leaking out. He opens them, and nearly swerves off the road. He grips the wheel impossibly tighter. "We can't keep doing this! We can't hide this anymore!" Harry gives up on trying not to cry, finally letting the tears fall.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Louis asks quietly, a small trace of accusation in his voice.

"Choose, Louis," Harry reponds, suddenly breathing softly and steadily. He closes his eyes. "Me or your rep."

"Harry, you cannot say that!" Louis shouts, anger apparent in his tone. "Stop blaming everything on me you asshole! This isn't about my rep, you idiot! It's about-"

A shrill shout fills the speakers, with the sound of breaking glass and the familiar three beeps that signal a disconnected call. "Harry? Harry!" Louis wails blindly into the phone. All traces of anger have been annihilated by sheer panic. Clutching his phone, Louis sprints out of the kitchen, knocking over the pile of tissues that had accumulated during his call with Harry. He tugs on some boots while looking at the traffic on Google maps, searching for any blockage. He finds there's an accident on the road Harry always takes to their home, and panic fills his chest. Not his Harry. Nothing can hurt his Harry. He grabs his keys and forgets his coat, braving the chilly November air. He turns on the news station, hoping, praying, that somehow it won't be Harry.

_"--two lanes blocked on the Danforth between Westboro and Exit 28, a collision between a navy Range Rover and a cement truck. Traffic moving very slowly in the collector--"_

Louis shuts of the radio as a sob escapes his lips.

Navy Range Rover.

 _Harry_.

Louis drives to the hospital.

Louis has barely pulled the key out of the ignition before he's jumping out of his car and sprinting into the emergency room. Thankfully, there is no line at the front desk.

"Was a young man just brought in from a car accident?" Louis nearly screams at the lady behind the desk, slamming the palms of his hands onto the counter. "Name please?" the startled, but seemingly used to it woman asks politely. Apparently frantic relatives and friends of patients are common.

"His name is Harry Styles, he's twenty years old." The nurse pulls up a document on her computer screen. "He just went into surgery, sir. May I ask your relation to him?"

 _Surgery! What has happened to my Harry?_ Louis thinks.

"I'm his..." Louis pauses. Denying the relationship is what got him into this mess in the first place. When Harry gets out of this--and he will get out of this--they are coming out. "I'm Harry's boyfriend," he says surely.

"Follow the blue line on the floor. There is a waiting room. You can make your calls there," the nurse says knowingly.

"Thank you," Louis says. His voice cracks.

"Go on, dear," she replies kindly. Louis races off, walking at fast as he can without knocking over anyone or their IV poles. He reaches the end of the hallway where there are a few chairs and an information desk. He walks up to the man behind it and asks again, "Where is my Harry?" His fingers subconsciously grip the counter.

The man blinks up at him and Louis wants to slap himself. He rephrases, "I'm looking for Harry Styles?" His voice cracks a bit again and he just wants to fall to the floor and break down right there. The man presses a few keys on his desktop and calmly moves the mouse across the monitor. Louis refrains from shouting at him, _tell me where my Harry is!_

"Room 7, sir. He is currently in surgery, in an induced coma with head trauma an excessive bleeding. We'll know more after some time. If you would please take a seat out here; we do not want you blocking the hallways for other patients. The man smiles not unkindly at him and points to a sign reading the hospital's wifi password.

Louis scoffs, as if he'd be online at a time like this. He can feel himself shaking from the new knowledge of Harry's state. But he calls Paul and explains the situation through his now dry tears. He's realized Harry will be fine. Harry wouldn't--couldn't--die on Louis, especially after Louis left him on such a bad note.

It's been three hours and since sitting down in that damn uncomfortable hospital chair the rest of the band and even some of management have arrived. Anne had gotten on a flight as soon as she'd heard and had arrived about ten minutes ago. She sat with Paul, who was trying to console the terrified woman.

Louis still hadn't been let in to him see Harry. Nobody had. Apparently his condition was not yet stable enough for visitors and if he seized again the doctors could not risk having visitors in the way of their work.

And so they waited.

Louis looks up from Niall's shoelaces as a doctor approaches them. Louis groggily lifts Zayn's head off his chest where he'd been quietly snoozing and blinks a few times to get the sleep and dried tears out of his eyes. He hears Niall sniffle.

"Are you here for Mr. Styles?" the doctor asks politely upon reaching them.

Paul nods and stands, pulling Anne up with him. Louis lifts himself up from his seat as well. He can see the other boys untangling themselves from each other to stand but ignores them. "Is there any news?" Anne whispers, voice thick and wet with tears.

"I'm afraid the surgery was, although successful, not very affective. I am terribly sorry, but Mr. Styles has very little chance of improving."

Louis shivers and lets out a breathy sob, throwing his head back and covering his face with his hands as he falls back into his seat. The back of the chair bangs against the wall in an eerie echo, but all Louis can can think about is Harry.

Liam speaks up, "Is there...any chance we can see him?" His voice is anything but stable.

The doctor sizes them up. "The rule is family only," he begins.

"Please, Doctor, we've lived with him for nearly five years. I'd call him my brother with zero hesitation. Please let us see him," says Niall. The Irish boy has tears streaming down his cheeks and looks defeated; his posture is is slumping like a deflated balloon and even his quiffed hair has depressingly flopped to the side.

"Please, I just want to see my Harry," Louis adds brokenly. He wills his voice not to crack. The doctor sighs, taking in the band members' desperation to see their friend for one last time.

"Alright, you four, and mum, come this way."

Paul waits outside the hospital door while Anne and the boys crowd around Harry's bedside.

_**You are my sunshine,** _

Louis sobs at the sight of his boy, his beautiful, beautiful boy, lying broken on the bed. He has gauze and bandages wrapped around his uncovered torso, breathing tubes in his nostrils and scrapes all over his face and neck. His left arm has an IV in it, probably administering morphine for the pain.

Louis goes to Harry's right side and takes his boyfriend's limp hand in both of his, pressing kisses to the back of his palm.

"Harry, oh my baby," he hears Anne whispering through her tears from the other side of the bed. She's carding her fingers through his unruly curls, ignoring the bits of dried blood left from the accident.

Louis turns back to look at Harry's face.

**_My only sunshine,_ **

"Harry, I'm so sorry, I never meant those things I said. I love you Harry, please come back to me. You can't die on me," Louis whispers only loud enough for Harry to hear, if he's even listening at all. "You can't leave me. Not after everything we've been through. After we get out of this, we can come out. Fuck it, I'll stand up to management. We can finally have that life we always dreamed of." He presses his forehead to Harrys scraped cheek and just sits there, taking him in. He's vaguely aware of the other boys also trying to get close to Harry, but doesn't move. He doesn't want to leave his love's side ever again.

They sit like that for some time, it could be hours, it could be days. He knows the other boys have gotten up to eat and get some half-decent sleep in the waiting room chairs. He knows Paul came in to see Harry some time ago. He knows he's declined several offers of soup from Anne and countless nurses. He knows there are well over a hundred paps outside just itching to get some insider information of Harry's condition, and Louis doesn't even have the energy to be disgusted about it. All he can think about is his boy. His beautiful, beautiful, broken boy.

**_You make me happy,_ **

In some wee hours of the morning a day later, while Louis is playing with Harry's unwashed curls as he rests his check on the bed, Harry's breathing suddenly goes sharp and quick, his eyes moving around rapidly beneathed their closed lids. His back arches off the bed and his limbs begin to flail, knocking over various equipment.

Louis jumps up to press the emergency call button for a nurse, who shows up second later. "He's seizing," she calls, triggering a wave of doctors to come rushing in.

With the frantic nurses, crying mother and continuous beeping from the heart monitor, Louis starts crying again. As a nurse ushers him to the side of the room, he reaches for Harry, but doesn't fight her. _They can help him_ , he tries to reason with himself.

**_When skies are grey,_ **

He watches the frantic nurses and doctors scrambling around as they attempt to aid the seizing boy. Louis presses his back to the wall and slides down with his hands over his mouth, whimpering into his palms.

He starts to quietly pray, not loud enough for anyone's ears but his own. "Oh, please, please to anyone who is listening, please don't take him away. Please don't take him, he is my love, my life, my world," he whimpers. "He is my universe; my sunshine and moonlight and all the stars in the sky above."

**_You'll never know, dear,_ **

"He is my everything."

**_How much I love you,_ **

"Please don't take him away."

**_Please don't take_ **

The line on the heart monitor goes flat and the beeping ceases to one continuous ring.

**_My sunshine_ **

Everything is silent. "Time of death, 3:27," says a nurse.

**_Away._ **

**Author's Note:**

> I was in a foul mood. Terribly sorry.


End file.
